


i didn't just come here to dance, if you know what i mean

by Syster



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Jackson Wang, Drabble Collection, M/M, See the pre-word in each chapter for specific tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syster/pseuds/Syster
Summary: A short story collection for requests and shorter work.Third chapter: An omega must hunt, Mark knows this. That doesn't mean he doesn't miss Jackson when he's gone.
Relationships: Jackson Wang/Everyone, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 27
Kudos: 74





	1. jackson/bambam, somnophilia (light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson Wang and Bambam shares a night in warm, summer-heavy Seoul while Jackson is still shrouded with sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> characters: Jackson Wang, Bambam  
> chapter-specific tags: bottom!jackson, somnophilia (light)

It’s warm and swelteringly hot, because it’s _July_ , which means that it’s also never quite dry, humidity hanging in the air as though it is physically present. Bambam comes home to a dark apartment, with the flickering lights of distant neon filtering in through the windows. The night sky is never truly dark in Seoul, especially not when you live in the middle of the city, right where the pulse is at its highest. There are the lights of billboards and skyscrapers and the sounds of a city bustling pouring in through the open windows, the gauzy white curtains blow in the wind. He shrugs off his jacket, putting it on a hanger, smoothing down the arms and shoulders of it. He puts his shoes neatly in place. 

He has something hot shifting underneath his skin. He’s keyed up, the way he always is after a good day's work. It’s been a long day, and he’s tired but not _tired_. He feels like he could fall asleep standing up. He feels like he could run a marathon.

Instead of going to his own room, he goes to the guest room. Jackson is staying over because Bambam’s the closest one to the shoot they’re having tomorrow morning and Jackson’s had a long flight.

There are other reasons too, but they don’t talk about those.

Those reasons are just implied, moaned into the humid heat of the night.

If Bambam’s apartment is a meld of city-lights and darkness, the guest room is completely dark. Jackson bitched at him until he put up blackout curtains, because while Jackson can fall asleep in the middle of an airport, tucked underneath Jinyoung’s arm, he can _not_ do so in a room where it’s not completely dark. The first thing Bambam does after stepping inside is to remove his shirt and fold it onto the chair in the corner. He cracks his neck, massages it and grimaces, because 23 is not middle-age anywhere except in the entertainment industry for a reason. He pulls the curtains apart slightly. Letting the light stream in, lets the noise of the city crawl into the room with them.

On the bed, Jackson just sighs, curling his arms tighter around the pillow. 

Jackson is all stretched out on the bed, golden skin and sculpted. Bambam’s bigger now, taller and broader, but Jackson has a leanness to him, a god-like beauty that is inimitable. Jackson’s legs, and thus his _thighs_ , are twisted around the thin cotton sheets. 

He’s naked, and the lights from the city play over his soft skin. Bambam likes Jackson dressed in the sounds and lights of Seoul because it solidifies his presence, makes him _present_. And, well, Bambam’s an aesthetical man, and there are few things more to his taste than naked tan golden skin dressed in city lights. When Bambam comes closer, he can smell his own cologne on Jackson’s skin. They don’t talk about this. Everything they do is done here, in his apartment, tucked away in the darkest hours of the sweltering summer heat.

Bambam stretches one last time, eases the new yet familiar stretch of his muscles, before he crawls over Jackson, settles two long legs on either side of Jackson’s hips, tracing a light touch along Jackson’s back, fingers light and fleeting.

Jackson sighs, arches into the touch reflexively, and Bambam feels the low hum of arousal already building, the restlessness of tired-yet-not thrumming underneath it. Jackson cracks one eye open, voice raspy and rough when he breathes out.

“Bammie?” Jackson’s eyes flutter as Bambam slides a hand over his back, coming to rest at the dip between his trim waist and hips, gently thumbing at the skin there. Bambam leans forward, presses a kiss against the back of Jackson’s neck, right below the hairline, tasting the salt of the sweat gathered there.

“Hey, hyung.” Bambam murmurs against Jackson’s skin, shifting his weight, hearing the little hitch in Jackson’s breathing, “Wanna fuck?”

“I’m _sleeping_ , Bam,” Jackson backs up a little bit, shoves at Bambam’s closest arm with a hand, and then frowns when that doesn’t do anything, still not used to Bambam's new heft, “Fuck off.” Jackson turns around again, wrapping his arms back around his pillow.

“Not an answer to the question,” Bambam leans down, nipping a kiss against Jackson’s muscular, golden shoulder. He sneaks his hand further down Jackson’s body, sliding a hand down Jackson’s thighs, grasping a bit tighter at the sweet bruises still there, “Is it?”

“Uh -” Jackson’s breath hitches, and he shifts his weight, still groggy and instinctive because of the sleep he has just barely chased away. When Bambam slides his hand down his thighs, Jackson gasps, low and deep in his chest, gently sucking in a breath as Bambam fits his fingertips right on the lingering bruises, like a particularly perverted version of Cinderella.

Jackson sleepily looks over his shoulder, his hair tangled and sticking up in various directions. He’s beautiful, of course he is, because he’s Jackson, but there is a vulnerability in seeing him this way that Bambam never gets used to. Bambam widens his eyes, pouts, and makes himself into the mimicry of someone cute. It doesn’t work on anyone. It always works on Jackson.

Jackson burrows his face into the pillow, grumbles into the cotton, and then spreads his legs a bit, giving a long-suffering sigh, “Fine. But I’m not doing anything. I’m _tired_.”

“Got ya,” Bambam smirks, pressing a kiss to Jackson’s cheek, keeping his touch soft and comforting until Jackson’s breath evens out a bit until the curl of his eyelids is relaxed. At the sight, Bambam hums happily and starts touching him more deliberately, touch growing heavier and focused. He drags his painted nails down Jackson’s back, over the swell of his well-muscled ass. Jackson opens his mouth, breaths a bit heavier, and Bambam waits.

Jackson murmurs a bit, but then his breath starts to even out, only hitching a bit when Bambam massages Jackson’s ass, squeezing the taut flesh in his hands. He slides down, pressing kisses against Jackson’s skin, nips and licks at the skin, making sure to revisit the marks they’ve made before. At the arch of Jackson’s back, right before the swell of his ass, Bambam sucks a darker bruise before spreading his cheeks thumbing between them to look at the pink rim of Jackson’s asshole.

There is a sigh, and Bambam looks up to see if Jackson has awoken. But no, while Jackson’s face furrows for a second, it soon evens out into sleep. His limbs are heavy but easy to maneuver, and Bambam spreads Jackson’s legs, lifts his hips, admires the way it makes him look, as though presenting himself.

Bambam licks a long stripe of wet from the taint to Jackson’s winking hole, tasting gentle muskiness and clean skin. He flutters his tongue against the puckered flesh, gently teasing it open, even though he doesn’t push his tongue inside. He keeps his tongue flat, giving thick, hard licks, wetting Jackson’s hole until it glistens with saliva. Bambam hums happily, leaning back a bit to admire his handiwork. Jackson’s face is flushed and his cock is half-hard, lazily and slowly hardening as Bambam bends his head again to work his tongue into Jackson’s ass. Jackson whimpers and Bambam moves his tongue, thrusts it in and out, curling it so it catches on Jackson’s rim, sucking and licking at the same time.

“Ah -” Jackson arches his back, curling his body away from him, but Bambam simply grabs him, putting Jackson back where he wants him. Bambam leans over to grab the lube by the end table, holds Jackson’s cheeks separated so that he can dribble a generous amount onto Jackson’s asshole. He watches it drip from Jackson’s asshole, down over his taint, over the skin of his balls. He lubes up his own cock as well before lining himself up, stroking himself into full hardness. He spreads Jackson’s legs wider, grabs onto his hips, forces his back into an arch.

In one thrust, Bambam’s cock enters Jackson and at the third, deep thrust, he bottoms out completely.

At this, Jackson gasps blearily, scrabbling at the sheets. He whines, reaching around to grab at Bambam’s hip, flush against Jackson’s ass.

Fuck he looks good like this, all soft and sleep-drunk, all whimpers and whines. 

“You’re still loose from this morning,” Bambam murmurs, rolling his hips, making Jackson give another sleep-drunk moan, “Fuck, I just slid in,“

“Bammie,” Jackson blinks, mouth open, his eyes still closed. Bambam thrusts, sliding out almost completely before bottoming out once more. Jackson gives such a sweet little ah at that, “C’mon” Bambam murmurs, whispering in Jackson’s ear, delighting in the shiver that runs through the body underneath him, “Clench for me, you’re a little loose.”

“Fuck you” Jackson gasps, arching his back again as Bambam hits home once more, sleep still sticking to the edges of his voice, “I told you, I’m not doing anything -”

Jackson is tight, tight and slick, but Bambam wants him tighter, wants him closer.

“Clench for me, oppa,” Bambam grins, murmuring the word with a slight _pop_ to the _pa_. 

Jackson stiffens, and at the next time Bambam thrusts in, he gives a proper whimper, a proper little squeal, making Bambam snort in fond laughter. 

“Fuck, I hate you -” Jackson arches his back, the long muscles of his back tensing. Bambam grins a curse against Jackson's back, shivering as Jackson tightens around him, clenching his asshole, “Ah, I hate you for figuring that one out,” Jackson gasps sweetly as Bambam hits his prostate, whatever protests he has lost in little, still-sleepy whimpers and moans.

“You’re not subtle, oppa,” Bambam leans over Jackson, his voice low and husky, covering the older man completely with his body, “I barely even had to try,” He angles his thrusts, makes sure that the next thrust lands true so that Jackson’s indignant squeal becomes a husky moan halfway through.

“C’mon,” Bambam fucks into Jackson, holds one hand on Jackson’s thigh, spreading him wider, the sound as he slaps into him is wet, obscene, and _perfect_ , “Come for me,”

“Ah, I need -” Jackson starts sneaking a hand between his legs, but Bambam swats it away, grabbing both of Jackson’s hands to force them over his head. The position makes Jackson’s back arch further, and Jackson is looking at him over his shoulder, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and dark.

“You can do it,” Bambam groans, feeling his own orgasm building up with each tight, lewd slide into Jackson’s ass, “C’mon, lemme see you come without touching your cock,” Jackson nods, so sweet and easy like this, when pleasure overpowers his usual endless complaints. Bambam grasps Jackson's hips bruisingly tight, setting a harsh, steady, and deep rhythm. Jackson keeps his hands over his head, spreading his legs to give Bambam easier access, his breathy little whines becoming little gasps, and then little breathless exhales, barely anything at all. He crests into climax slowly, rolling over him like waves instead of one large crescendo. His entire body shakes as he comes, and he tightens so fucking well around Bambam. Bambam groans, keeps himself together long enough to fuck Jackson through his orgasm, before spilling his own release into Jackson’s hot, sensitive hole. 

Bambam collapses on top of Jackson’s back. Jackson groans and shifts his weight until Bambam lies more comfortably on top of him. Jackson’s content little sigh at that is one that Bambam notices but doesn’t comment on. 

He’s not a big cuddler, but Jackson is, and as such, here he will stay. Jackson shivers, licks his lips, and Bambam wonders if he can slide his cock in there, slide it down Jackson’s throat. Jackson doesn’t need to be awake for that either. He presses a kiss to Jackson’s back, before rolling off. Jackson gasps as he goes from being full to being _empty_. Bambam knows that Jackson loves being filled and that he would’ve loved for Bambam to stay inside him the entire night, but Bambam will make Jackson ask for it. And Jackson is sulking now, so he won't. Well, whatever. They have time.

Jackson rubs his thighs together, groaning with a pout, “Ah, Bam, you couldn’t have worn a condom? I’m too tired to take a shower, and I’m all fucking filthy.”

“Mm, _such_ a shame,” Bambam agrees, grinning broadly, running his fingers between Jackson’s legs, touching the rim of his asshole and the wet gathered there. Bambam shifts his entire body to pull Jackson onto his chest. Jackson’s voice is low, thick, and satisfied as he answers, still slightly slurred. 

“Fuck you, Bammie,”

“Fuck you too, Jackson-hyungie,” Bambam chirps back, turning his head back to the pillows, the restless thrum of his blood sated and still, shifting into warm fondness He falls asleep with Jackson on his chest, tracing patterns onto beautiful golden skin, Jackson still full of his cum.

They won’t talk about it in the morning. This is a secret that belongs to the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never in my life done a short story collection, but i want a place to post my work that's shorter than 4k words, so here we are. the title is from carly rae jepsen's masterpiece "i didn't just come here to dance" from the album emotion also known as the one album i want got7 to cover, god _please_.
> 
> someone in the comments of my other fic requested some sweet jackbam content and i was like; _absofuckinglutely_. don't worry, i warned them that i only write explicit content.
> 
> comments are greatly appreciated and helps the motivation lots! if you want, you're welcome to leave requests in the comments for shorter pieces.
> 
> [I have a twitter! ](https://twitter.com/syster19) if you want to come yell about got7 and read stupid outtakes of my writing, that's where you'll find me.


	2. jinson, breeding kink.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson has been doing research into a new kink, and one day when Jinyoung is being a brat that won't let him come, Jackson employs it like a sledgehammer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jackson & jinyoung, breeding/pregnancy kink.

They’re fucking, Jackson is on his knees, his head resting on his forearms. He has been holding himself up, but he’s only human and they’ve been at this for a while. The slide of Jinyoung’s cock inside him is fucking magnificent. But Jinyoung is pissed about something so he’s decided to just... not come, no matter how much Jackson begs and pleads. Jinyoung’s strokes are measured, almost lazy, while Jackson feels like he is losing his _mind_.

“C’mon,” Jackson gasps, trying to go for a snarl but if he’s honest, it probably comes out a lot more like a whimper, “Jinyoung-ah, c’mon, please -”

“Mm,” Jinyoung says, teething at Jackson’s skin, as though he is savoring the taste of it, his hands firm on Jackson’s hips. The gentle little hum, the sweet little sound of it, is such a _fucking_ contradiction to the absolutely torturous way Jinyoung is fucking him. Jinyoung’s cock slides over his prostate, and Jackson’s breath hitches. Jackson isn’t sure Jinyoung’s doing it on purpose, but there is little deliberate focus on his prostate, instead, Jinyoung seems to want him to come from being filled, from being stretched and used, and fuck if Jinyoung won’t get his wish.

Jackson’s so hard he’s about to start crying.

“Jinyoungie, don’t you -” another push against his prostate, making Jackson’s breath stutter, and Jinyoung subtly shifts his weight so that the next time, he glides past it, brushing it, but not enough to actually make him come, “- don’t you want to make me shut up?” Jackson looks over his shoulder, makes his eyes as big as possible, licks his dry lips, “I - I’ll keep fucking talking if you don’t make me cum, and -”

“I love your voice,” Jinyoung interrupts, voice still a low little hum, not at all like Jackson’s voice which seems to fluctuate a lot, moving between high raspy sighs and low, deep moans, “I don’t mind you talking.” He pushes inside, stays locked against Jackson’s hips, rolls his own and Jackson - _ah_ -

“Please -” Jackson murmurs, and he wonders what it’d say on his tombstone when Jinyoung fucking _kills_ him for this, _here lies jackson wang, fucked to death by park fucking jinyoung_. God, he wouldn’t even mind, but he sure fucking hopes he comes first though, “Please, please, _please_ -”

“Please, what?” Jinyoung murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jackson’s back where his muscles bunch up, the place Jinyoung likes to rest his head when they sleep, “Use your words, Jackson-ah,”

“Oh, _fuck_ you -” Jackson gasps as Jinyoung drives in a bit harder, and for two or three glorious thrusts, Jinyoung hits straight on Jackson’s prostate, “Yes,” Jackson rasps, “ _Yes -_ ”

And then Jinyoung _stops_. Jackson almost sobs straight out, when the bursts of focused, intense pleasure go back to the low-hum of constant fullness. Jinyoung actually _chuckles_ , and Jackson - well Jackson thinks _oh fuck it._

Jackson’s done some goddamn research and sure, he might’ve... been second-guessing his recent sojourn into a particular kink, because it’s just weird enough to make it a _thing that could also be a huge turn-off_. As such he hasn’t used it, not yet, but Jinyoung fucking deserves it and Jackson deserves to fucking come.

“It won’t take,” Jackson says, rasping it out between his thin little exhales of breath, “It won’t take if you don’t come in me, you know.” The words feel strange, and heavy, on his tongue, and a shiver of anticipation, shame, and arousal slivers along Jackson’s spine in a delicious mix.

“What won’t take?” Jinyoung says, his voice low and amused, because he probably thinks Jackson is just blabbering, the way Jackson do sometimes if Jinyoung fucks him well enough, “Seunie, tell me -”

“The baby,” Jackson gasps, his entire body shivering with the word. The first time he says it, it feels large and strange, but as the word leaves his lips, Jinyoung’s hips falter just a bit and that is enough for him to repeat it, let it roll off his tongue a bit more naturally, “It won’t take, the preg - pregnancy if you don’t -” he stumbles over the word as he moans.

Jinyoung goes quiet behind him, his pace falters, and fuck it if that isn’t all the encouragement Jackson needs, “Fuck a baby into me, Jinyoungie, c’mon, I’d - I’d love it, I’d look so good, all round and -” Jinyoung’s next thrust is so harsh that Jackson has to scrabble against the sheets, laughing breathlessly, a bit deliriously.

“Jackson, what the fuck,” Jinyoung swears against his skin, and Jackson licks his lips, and commits to the bit. _Come on, Jackson,_ he thinks to himself _, you’ve done worse things than this in variety shows._ _Probably_.

“Come inside me, I’ll take it, I’ll carry it, I _want_ it, I want to carry your child -” Jackson’s breath is punched out of him as Jinyoung gives an almost aborted thrust, too hard, too deep, almost shockingly indeliberate considering how he’s been up to this point.

“Jackson -” Jinyoung says, and _there it is_ , the little bit of loss that comes into Jinyoung’s melodic voice when he wants too much, when his voice goes low and a bit whiny, “Jackson, what are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to?” Jackson trembles as he takes his weight on his forearms, pushes himself up, hooded, dark eyes looking over his shoulder into Jinyoung’s wide, slightly shocked gaze, “Don’t you want to fuck a baby into me?”

Jinyoung’s long, answering groan to _that_ is the only response he needs. Jackson grins, takes a hand, places it on one of Jinyoung’s that is on his hip. Jackson interlocks their fingers, rolls his hips so that Jinyoung’s cock move inside of him. He feels like he’s on _fire_.

“C’mon, baobei,” Jackson purrs, “Imagine how I’d look, full and round with your -”

Jackson yelps when he is suddenly flipped around, Jinyoung slipping out of him (Jackson could _kill_ him at the loss, fucking _kill_ him, he’ll -) and then he is pushed to the bed on his back, Jinyoung’s hands on his forearms.

“I swear to _God_ , Park Jinyoung, that if you do not get back inside me this second I will -”

Jinyoung looks wild, his eyes managing to both be wide and narrowed at the same time, and Jackson thinks that maybe he should apologize later, about the whole ‘pregnancy’ thing but _fuck_ , Jinyoung’s been fucking him for what feels like an eternity and Jackson is _desperate_. So it was a bit out there but so _what_? Jinyoung made Jackson wear lace panties once and sure, that’s a _classy_ kink and _breeding_ sure ain’t classy, but still -

When Jinyoung enters him again, it is in one deep thrust. Jackson moans, throwing his head back, because _God_ , yes, oh, he could _live_ like this, just speared on Jinyoung’s lovely fucking cock _all the time_.

Jackson wraps his legs around Jinyoung’s waist, arches his back (he knows he looks good, all defined, lean muscle and soft skin), and his breath comes in short, tight little pants.

“Baobei, c’mon -”

“What were you _saying_?” Jinyoung growls, and _oh_. That’s a... That’s a blush. That’s embarrassment, carried in the distressed turn of his brow, in the lovely curve of his full lips. _Oh_ , Jackson thinks again, _it_ is _a thing_.

“Me?” Jackson is pretty shivery, so his hand trembles a bit when he slowly takes it, traces it down his chest before resting it on the flat plane of his stomach, curling his fingers over it, “I wasn’t saying anything in particular.”

Jinyoung follows the hand as though it is a venomous snake ready to strike. When it stops on Jackson’s stomach, Jinyoung swallows. His gaze flickers up to Jackson’s eyes but then goes right back.

“Move, baobei,” Jackson murmurs, laying back, fingers still curled on the taut skin of his flat stomach, “Fuck me,” Jackson grins, clenching down on Jinyoung’s cock, “Fuck me until you make me pregnant.”

The stutter of Jinyoung’s hips is unmistakable this time. Jackson arches his back and officially decides to just... careen off the cliff.

“It might take a couple of tries, but we’ll get there, right? In the end? We’ll get it down to an _art form_ , you fucking me full and -” Jackson gasps, the sentence bitten off as Jinyoung gives a wild, hard thrust and then starts to move. The thrusts are not as measured, his pace not as steady. This time, the movements are irregular, harder, _deeper_. They strike against Jackson’s prostate _perfectly_ , “Oh, _yes_.” Jackson groans, smiling as he bites down on his lower lip, his legs tightening around Jinyoung’s waist.

Jinyoung surges forward to kiss him, and Jackson wraps both his arms around Jinyoung’s shoulders, intertwining his hands in Jinyoung’s soft hair, gasping as Jinyoung bites his lips open, licks into his mouth, lips and mouth wet, hot and _demanding_. Jinyoung does not stop moving, both hands on Jackson’s thighs, spreading them a bit wider as he fucks deeper, harsher.

“Everyone would know,” Jinyoung murmurs, breaking the kiss, his breath stuttering out of him, “Who made you -” he falters on the word, buries his head against Jackson’s neck, he swallows. Jackson giggles, a sharp breath releasing from him as Jinyoung hits true, sparks shooting through every single burnt-out nerve of his fucked-out body. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jackson gasps back, “I’d like it,” He continues, and Jinyoung groans in response, “I’d like that they’d know who knocked me up.”

“Seun-ah -” Jinyoung’s voice breaks a bit on the word, his deep melodic voice almost sounding a bit false as he has to catch his breath, “ _Fuck_.”

“Yes,” Jackson groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Jinyoung’s neck, to his broad shoulders, “Yes, _fuck_.”

“You’d look so good, you’d look so fucking _good_ , I’d barely be able to keep my hands to myself,” Jinyoung’s gaze is hot, dark, and intense, watching Jackson’s face as he fucks into him, hard and ruthless. _Ruthless_. Jackson can feel himself cresting, feel himself rocking into release, but - ah, Jinyoung is so hard inside him. 

“Ah, wait -” Jackson says, scrabbling his hands over Jinyoung’s shoulders, “Wait, you need to come too -”

“I will,” Jinyoung lifts one side of his lip in half a snarl, baring his cute white teeth, “But it’ll take better if you come first, I think.” He grabs Jackson’s ass, spreads him wide, and more or less moves Jackson down on his cock, his hips and hands setting the pace completely. Jackson’s head rolls back, his eyes glazed, his pink swollen lips parted and gasping. He comes almost unceremoniously, his cock twitching out thick strings of cum onto his stomach, considering how long they have been doing this, with a softly bitten off sob and a shivering release of the tension in his muscles. He rolls over the edge with Jinyoung’s cock riding him through it, and then when Jackson has gasped out the last of his release, whimpering out Jinyoung’s name like a prayer, Jinyoung just - keeps going.

“Baobei,” Jackson whines, still trembling with the aftershocks of his release, and he clenches around the cock in his ass, the slide feeling harsher, the intrusion bigger, now that his nerves sing with oversensitivity, “Baobei, ah.”

“You take me so well,” Jinyoung breathes into his ear, his voice clinging with something dark and deep, and that’s just so _fucking_ hot, “You’ll take my cum even better, to make sure it breeds you.”

_Oh_. Jackson thinks, deliriously.

“Oh,” Jackson gasps, delightedly, “I - I will, I’ll do so good, I’ll make sure it all stays inside, make sure none of it goes to waste.”

“Of course you will,” Jinyoung moves with a pace, a rhythm, that almost seems wicked, manic, “You were made for this -” he thrusts hard, and Jackson makes a low-pitched squeal, a rasp caught between a gasp and a moan, “- made for _me_.”

“Yes,” Jackson feels the ache of pain from the oversensitivity, he feels it like a brand, like fire taken to his nerves, but - _but_ \- oh, it feels so _good_ , “Only for you.”

“It’s impossible for it to happen,” Jinyoung mouths at Jackson’s jaw, drags teeth and lips down Jackson’s skin, “But my Seunie has done so many impossible things, what would one more thing matter?“

“I’d do it,” Jackson nods, oversensitivity making his words turn wet, the twist of his lips slightly pained, but his cock that lay softening and spent on his stomach twitches as though he hasn’t stopped coming yet, “I’ll find a way, _fuck_ -”

“So good,” Jinyoung gasps, “So fucking good. I’d love to see you heavy with my child, watch you get bigger, rounder -”

Jackson bites into Jinyoung’s shoulder, and Jinyoung stutters on the word, groans and finally, _finally,_ comes. Jackson whimpers, clenching around Jinyoung’s cock, and _fuck_ , he can fucking _feel_ it, the cum inside him, coating his insides. He almost feels like he’s coming again, nerves singing with arousal and a tinge of _too_ much. Jackson noses at Jinyoung’s cheek, pouting, until Jinyoung takes his lips in a searing, pulsating kiss, breaking apart to lay their foreheads together, breathing each other’s exhausted, shivering gasps.

They stay connected for a couple of moments before Jackson shoves a bit at Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jinyoung rolls off him, Jackson’s leg giving a reflexive seizure of a kick as Jinyoung slips out, his ass clenching around nothing. 

Their labored breathing stays in the air as Jinyoung wraps an arm around Jackson’s waist, tucking him against his chest, holding him close. Jackson makes a soft, content sound, snuggling closer. He glances down to see Jinyoung’s hand resting on top of his stomach. Jackson snorts, breaking into a giggle as Jinyoung burrows his head into Jackson’s hair.

“So, that’s a green on breeding kink, huh?” Jackson murmurs, raising an eyebrow. Jinyoung doesn’t answer, but the hand on Jackson’s stomach curls protectively. When Jackson starts to laugh, he can feel the twitch of Jinyoung’s smile against the back of his neck, warm, gentle, and loving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _shrugs_ i just think it's neat that they are both so family oriented, you know?
> 
> comments are greatly appreciated and helps the motivation lots! if you want, you're welcome to leave requests in the comments for shorter pieces.
> 
> [I have a twitter! ](https://twitter.com/syster19) if you want to come yell about got7 and read stupid outtakes of my writing, that's where you'll find me.


	3. GOT7 Ensemble, ABO, lore and worldbuilding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in this one, i write a stupid little thing based upon my ABO-verse with a heavy leaning towards worldbuilding, putting them in a different kind of society.
> 
> look, i spend way too much time thinking up lore for a verse that is literally just about porn and i NEVER get to use it. so. here it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: GOT7 ensemble
> 
> Warnings: ABO and a lot of cobbled together world building. It probably won't make a lot of sense if you haven't read my series "No drug like me"

Mark wakes up at dawn, stretching languorously over the rock still carrying the lingering tail-end of yesterday's sun, which in turn warms the wool blankets they’ve nested with. As he moves, he feels restricted and turns to nip at Jaebeom’s cheek, making the other man mutter and curl his arm tighter around Mark’s waist which is predictable, but not really what Mark wanted.

With a fond little trill in the back of his throat, Mark leans down to nuzzle at Jaebeom’s sea-salt stained hair, carding a hand through it to untangle the knots that have formed during the night in Jaebeom’s shoulder-length, black hair. Jaebeom yawns but does let go of Mark with a bit of a whine when Mark snaps his teeth in playful warning, turning instead to wrap his long limbs around Yugyeom’s still-sleeping form, nestling deeper into the heavily woven wool, dyed bright by the dyes Youngjae likes to create as he guards.

Mark yawns again as he exits the nest, leaving his sleep-mates behind, flaring his nose as he scents the ocean air. Youngjae sings a greeting from a bit higher up, bundled into his thick fur coat and cotton trousers, breaking into bright laughter as Mark mutters a _too early, youngjae-ah_ underneath his breath. Youngjae might not hear him, but they’ve been a pack for years by this point. Youngjae knows.

He goes by the second nest, a bit further in and more well-protected, shielded against the harsh winds and cold air by high outcroppings of rock and woven wood and wool. He sticks his head in and finds Bambam curled around the little clutch of two muted pink eggs. He’s looking disheveled, grumpy, and secretly pleased as Jinyoung lazily grooms his hair, preening through Bambam’s many adornments to nuzzle at the soft tresses. The heat inside the carefully constructed nest is almost sweltering, and Jinyoung hisses when Mark lets in some of the cool, morning air, curling his body around both Bambam and the eggs, glaring at Mark.

“Sorry,” Mark mouths, quickly crouching inside, gentling his voice into a soothing purr. Jinyoung is a terror to deal with during brooding, fiercely protective and short-tempered the entire time, “Has Jackson been back?”

“Not yet,” Bambam grumbles, grimacing as Jinyoung rumbles back into a purr, contentedly preening through Bambam’s hair, but Bambam still tilts his head so that Jinyoung can reach better, “He should be back soon, but Eun-ah is so little still, he might wait another day for calmer waters.”

Mark makes a low, sad little trill at that, more instinctive than anything else, and Bambam coos back in comfort. Jinyoung shifts his weight, invites Mark to join them, to curl up on the other side of the nest, finding comfort in the inherent instinct of protecting the clutch. Ah, but Mark has things to do. Fishing nets to mend, dyeing wool to dry. Two alphas have to stay with the eggs, which means more work for the rest of them, and Yugyeom and Jaebeom had worked long into the night the day before. Resting is a luxury for calmer days, not in the beginning days of autumn when the air starts to grow colder.

He leans forward to press a kiss against Jinyoung’s temple, curling his fingers quickly in a caress over Bambam’s cheek before exiting the nest again, shivering as he steps out into the chill air from the baking heat. 

With a couple of nimble, quick steps, he reaches the rock where they keep their nets and traps. All of them are pulled up on the rocky shore. There had been a sudden storm yesterday, growing from merely a quiet hum in the air to roaring wind in seconds, truly signaling the arrival of turbulent autumn weather. Jaebeom and Yugyeom had managed to pull everything to shore in time, only a few of the nets having been damaged, but it did mean that there was no catch this morning. Thank the ocean that their storages are full. Mark sighs as he settles down onto the ground, curling his shoulders into the tall collar off his shirt, picking up one of the blankets to drape it over his shoulders. His fingers will grow stiff quickly, but he coats them in seal-fat, which should trap enough heat to let him get his work done.

It’s therapeutic work, mending and weaving nets. It’s simple, repetitive work, and he soon falls into the rhythm of doing it, layering rope and knots. He is almost done with the second to last net when he hears Youngjae’s trilling song, his strong voice carrying over wind and wave. Mark whips his head up, stumbling a bit as he gets up on his feet, fastening the net to get back to later as he quickly makes his way to the main shore.

With a flurry of chirps and giggles, a child’s play at words until their main vocal cords grow in properly, Eun-ah throws herself into Mark’s arms, trilling the little collection of notes that makes up his name. Mark laughs, throwing her up, catching her tightly and hugging her close, nuzzling into her wet, salty hair, purring her own name back at her.

“Eun-ah!” Youngjae shouts, running down from his lookout, arms thrown out wide, voice already reverberating with vibrating song. Eun-ah quickly slivers her way out of Mark’s arms, answering Youngjae with her own vibrato, in her childish yet strong voice. Youngjae grabs her and swings her around, nuzzling her cheeks and kissing her face as she giggles.

Mark looks back to the water, just in time to see Jackson make his way from it, golden skin glistening in the light from the rising sun as steam rises from it. He looks strong, and healthy, plumper now than when Mark saw him last, gathering fat around his waist, hips, and thighs to prepare for his impending winter heat. He is carding through his hair, gently easing back the tresses with carved whale-bone pins, the ones Jinyoung made him almost four years ago. Around his wrists glint Mark and Jaebeom’s colorful beads and pearls, around his neck hang Yugyeom and Bambam’s twinned silver rope while Youngjae’s carved wood earrings drip from his ears.

Jackson’s scent is all ocean and blood, tinged with Eun-ah’s childish notes, and it’ll take a night or two until he once again smells like them. Mark’s fingers twitch with the want to fix it _now_ , to dip his fingers between Jackson’s legs, tease forward heat and proper pack-scent. It’s an idle thought, and when Jackson scents _him_ , even though Mark is standing up-wind, Jackson turns to him with a big, blinding smile.

“Yi-en,” he calls, his voice even hoarser than usual, his lungs still becoming used to more air than water, but he is blinding, gleaming like the last rays of summer sun, “Have you missed me?” He trills, reverberating his teasing purr through the words, and Mark scoffs and rolls his eyes, but answers it honestly, in the way that always disarms Jackson’s teasing sharpness after a hunt.

“Yes,” Mark coos back, giggling as Jackson flushes red, even after _years_ , “I missed you a lot, my heart.”

“Aish,” Jackson huffs, puffing up his cheeks, rounder there too. Mark wants to bite at them, wants to find all the new delightful plumpness and mark it with his teeth, “It’s too early for that kind of talk, you ass,” Jackson mutters with all the fondness of a love-sick alpha serenading their ocean-bound omega, and Yi-en steps closer, close enough to feel Jackson’s burningly hot skin, his blood still working to rid itself of the ocean-chill.

Their kiss tastes like salt and blood. 

“I killed us a seal,” Jackson murmurs, glancing back to the shore where Youngjae is listening to Eun-ah describe all the different parts of the dead seal floating in the shallow water, bound with rough rope, Youngjae gently coaxing Eun-ah’s voice into words when she can, to help her language form properly, “I bet Jinyoungie isn’t eating, warming the eggs, but seal should get even him to let someone else take his place for a while.”

“Maybe,” Mark grins, hooking an arm over Jackson’s bare shoulders, looking forward to dressing him in all their new woven and carded fabric, shaped by Bambam’s whale-bone needle, “He’s been particularly bad this time around.”

“Ah, I can imagine,” Jackson tsks, “You are all too nice, letting him hog the eggs.”

_Hypocrite_ , Mark thinks fondly, leaning over to blow some air over Jackson’s ear, making the man startle as though slapped, “Says the one who starts going into heat the moment Jinyoungie starts looking wistfully at the brooding nest.”

“I do _not_ —” Jackson squawks, burring himself up, all the featherlight down on his chest and neck fluttering, “— liar!” he slaps a hand at Mark’s chest, and Mark simply catches it, intertwining their fingers. Jackson, whose heart is about as guarded as a nest without beta’s, softens visibly at the gesture.

“Jackson-ah! Eun-ah!” comes from above them, showing Yugyeom waving his long arms frantically, still mussed and shivering from sleeping, his clothes barely pulled properly onto his body, “You’re back!”

Jackson waves back, raising his voice in a thrilling coo of a note before turning to give Mark a kiss on the cheek.

“C’mon, let's get Gyeommie to help us pull Jinyoungie from the nest, and then let's continue that thought you had earlier, about making me smell like pack again,” he grins, his quirked smile curving mischievously over his face, making Mark flush. Ah, that’s right. You can’t hide your scent from your omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..... yeah.
> 
> look. i don't know what to tell you. i've lived by the ocean my entire life and i just wanted to create an ABO verse that had fish, cat/hyena and bird in it. so.
> 
> can jackson breathe underwater? kind of. omegas have a secondary set of lungs, which means they can hold their breaths a lot longer.
> 
> why? because it gives me a lore-reason to why jackson later can suck a lot of cock without worrying about airsupply. don't @ me. i know who i am.
> 
> SO ANYWAY THIS WAS FUN.


End file.
